Marshals Don't Cuddle
by Connie Welsh
Summary: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars/The Thrilling Adventure Hour. On a cold Mars night, Croach insists on using his superior biology to keep the marshal warm... via cuddling.


There was a false idea in most people's heads that Mars was hot. Sparks wasn't sure if it was the fire red color of Mars soil, or the mostly-barren landscape that most people associated with hot, Earthen deserts. Either way, even with the terraforming that made Mars's atmosphere livable for humans (and consequently warmed the temperature of the planet), Mars was still pretty far from the sun; one couldn't expect a tropical climate.

Sparks knew all of this, of course, being the marshal on Mars. But knowing it didn't stop him from shivering where he was bundled in his bedroll, pulled as close to the camp fire as he dared.

He was supposed to be sleeping, and every fiber of his body wanted to after a long day of riding the red plains and getting into altercations with robots. For whatever reason, however, the wind felt especially sharp that night; piercing straight through his space sleeping bag like it was nothing but paper.

Sparks shivered rather violently as a burst of wind sent needles of cold down his skin, and he tried to scrunch up tighter against the feeling.

"Sparks Nevada, I can hear your mandible trembling, causing it to impact your top and bottom teeth together in a very distracting way. Is something ailing you?"

Sparks snorted, pulling his sleeping bag a little tighter, "Fine, Croach. Just keep watch."

There was silence for a few moments, and Sparks seriously contemplated grabbing a smoldering ember from the fire to stick under his pillow as another cold gust made his muscles hurt from trembling.

"While I am no expert on human biology, I assess that your body temperature is 2.6 degrees lower than it normally is. Are you suffering from the cold we are experiencing tonight?"

Sparks gave an exasperated sigh at his companion's persistent question, finally opening his eyes to peer at him across the fire.

"I'll be fine, Croach. It's just a little windy," he tried to insist, even as his body shuddered visibly. He grimaced. Sparks hated feeling anything but 100% confident around Croach; the Martian seemed to take far too much pleasure from pointing out human weaknesses. Sparks's, particularly.

"You humans and your thin epidermis," Croach said haughtily, stoking the fire with a smirk, "So prone to external weather conditions."

"Just shut up, Croach. Can I go to sleep here or what?"

Damn Martians and their freakin' exoskeletons.

"I do not know, can you?" Croach shot back easily, and Sparks damned _himself_ for ever teaching his companion human snark.

"GoodNIGHT, Croach."

"Goodnight, Sparks Nevada."

By sheer force of will, Sparks demanded that his body sleep, even as his teeth continued to chatter and his toes and fingers felt tingly and numb. It was by far the worst sleep he had ever fallen into, with consciousness creeping in at the corners constantly and his muscles trembling so much it felt like a full-body workout instead of a rest.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he half-dreamily detected Croach move; he assumed to wake him to take the second watch so the Martian could take his turn to sleep.

Wearily Sparks braced himself to be shaken, and was so focused on willing the unreasonable tears of exhaustion to subside that when he felt Croach lift the corner of his sleeping bag and get inside, it took his sleep-deprived and frozen brain several long moments to catch up.

"What in the royal hell are you DOIN'?" He finally squawked. He tried to push the sleeping bag aside and get away, but Croach was too quick, grabbing the protesting marshal and pulling him back. Sparks ended up with his back pressed against Croach's front, and the Martian was so close that Sparks could feel his antennae twitching against the pillow. So. Gross.

"Sparks Nevada," Croach's voice said frighteningly close to his ear, "I detect with four of my senses that your temperature is significantly lower than it normally is, and I further detect that your extremities are being deprived of blood in your body's attempt to maintain your core temperature. It would make fulfilling my onus to you significantly more difficult if you were to die as a result of this, or be forced to give up your marshal position due to loss of extremities. Therefore I have deemed it necessary to use my superior biology to warm you."

"By _cuddlin'_ me?" Sparks growled uncomfortably, still wiggling to get away, "No way in hell, Croach, get off."

"Sparks Nevada, I have already gone through the effort of heightening my internal body temperature significantly in order that I may assist you. Using my body temperature to restore yours would lower my onus to you, and as such I ask that you please allow me to do so."

Despite Sparks's rather weak attempts to get away, (damn frozen limbs) by the end of Croach's little speech about onus and body temperature the Martian's heat had started to seep through Sparks's clothes. Despite himself, the marshal couldn't help but lean back into that warmth, his cold body overriding all protest his brain could come up with.

"Yeah, but..." he began in a grumble, then stalled as his hands grasped at Croach's arms where they had snaked around his chest and middle. His intention had been to push his companion's hands away and wiggle to freedom, but he was momentarily startled away from his goal by how hot Croach felt. Due to past experiences he would rather not relive, Sparks knew that the Martian was no where near this temperature normally, and couldn't stop himself from being concerned that Croach was doing something detrimental to himself all for silly onuses.

"This is _weird_ ," he insisted instead of voicing his concern, resuming his wiggling, "Pals don't just cuddle like this, Croach."

"We are not _cuddling_ , Sparks Nevada," Croach said authoritatively, and Sparks grimaced a little at the sound of Croach's antennae twitching irritability against the pillow. Double gross, "I am providing a necessary aid to you as an act of onal reparation."

"Via cuddling," Sparks groused, and if Croach had human lungs he was certain the Martian would be using them to sigh annoyingly at that moment.

" _Fine_ ," Croach said, "if that is what you insist on designating it. Nevertheless it is already proving useful, as I detect better circulation in your extremities as a result of this 'cuddling'."

Sparks huffed irritability, but couldn't argue. It was true, he was feeling better already as Croach's heat permeated the sleeping bag and slowly warmed his shivering body. With an agitated sigh, he stopped wiggling and trying to escape, and instead folded his arms crossly.

"Whatever," he grumbled, trying as subtly as he could to press his feet back against Croach's shins to warm his cold toes, "How're you doin' this, anyway? This whole... superheating thing."

"My anatomy is required to increase its temperature for the proper gestation of-"

"Woah, alright," Sparks cut in immediately. Any and all things that had even remote relativity to Croach's egg sacks were topics that he wished to stay far and away from, "Forget I asked about your gross biology."

"I am not gross," Croach huffed, "and your blatant disrespect for my biological capabilities- particularly the one that is providing you with protection from the harsh cold of _G'loot Praktaw_ \- puts you under onus to me, Sparks Nevada."

"Yeah, what else is new."

"Your disrespect for my biology and the resulting onus is not a new concept to you-"

"Nevermind, Croach. Just- nevermind. We're just... not gonna talk about this anymore. Got it?"

"You require sleep, Sparks Nevada," Croach answered instead, and Sparks sighed.

"Fine."

Silence took over. Another gust of wind ripped over the red plains, whistling eerily in the night, and Sparks felt a wave of genuine relief and gratitude when he barely felt it's chill; Croach's body solidly in the way, protecting him from the cold.

Despite how totally weird it was, Sparks couldn't deny the strange, totally gross thing Croach was doing to elevate his body temperature was working perfectly. His shivering was subsiding, being replaced with the always disconcerting feeling of pins-and-needles that Sparks new all too well to be a sign that warmth was returning to his arms and legs.

Sparks was almost feeling comfortable enough to go to sleep; no longer feeling quite like a marshal popsicle.

Until he felt Croach move carefully, and suddenly the Martian's hands were loosening Spark's arms from where they were crossed around his chest. Wordlessly Croach rearranged him, allowing more of his ultra-heated arms to be pressed against Spark's numb ones, and enveloping the marshal's fingers with his own.

" _What are you doing?_ " Sparks said immediately, going tense and alert in an instant.

"Sparks Nevada, please cease panicking. The circulation has not yet been properly restored to your fingers, I am attempting to speed up the process to help you avoid damage from occurring," Croach informed him with an edge of exasperation in his voice.

"We are not holding hands," Sparks insisted gruffly, though he did nothing to withdraw his tingling fingers from Croach's grasp. He would totally blame it on mammalian instinct of survival in cold conditions, "I draw the weird, alien-cuddling line right here."

"As you wish, Sparks Nevada," Croach replied, doing nothing to initiate letting go either.

A few minutes passed. Croach continued to pour off heat, and Spark's body slowly continued to thaw. It was... kinda nice, being snuggled up to another living thing to sleep. Cozy, even. Not that Sparks would ever admit to anything as remotely mushy as all that, but it didn't stop it from being true.

"We are never talking about this again," Sparks mumbled eventually, eyelids drooping heavily with exhaustion.

"As you wish, Sparks Nevada."

When next Sparks awoke, the fire was all but out, and the first rays of the sun were beginning to peak over the horizon. He felt comfy and well-rested, despite the early hour, and for a moment or two he forgot last night's events in restful contentment.

Suddenly it came back to him, the whole weird, cuddly thing, and he groaned, turning to press his face into the pillow. The movement jostled Croach, and the Martian stirred with a small noise of protest.

"Croach," Sparks gruffed, his vocal chords thick-feeling with residual sleep, "Croach, you were supposed to wake me for second watch. You fell asleep."

"I am sorry, Sparks Nevada," Croach said sleepily, finally releasing the marshal from his embrace. Sparks rolled onto his back, stretching his stiff muscles carefully, and steadfastly avoiding eye contact with his friend.

They were not going to discuss it. This was being added to the book of things they never spoke of again, right under any and all mention of egg sack stimulating.

"You're just lucky Insanity Jane and her angry posse didn't sneak up on us. We're in their neck of the woods, y'know. They'da strung you up faster than a space deer during hunting season, just for darin' to fall asleep."

"We are not near any woods, Sparks Nevada," Croach said dryly, and Sparks rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean, Croach."

Slowly Sparks sat up, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his boots. It was still cold, but getting ready and hitting the galactic trail would do nicely to keep him warm, "Anyway, get ready. You still gotta track Malware Chip for me today; he's got a warrant out on him three space feet long."

"As you wish, Sparks Nevada," Croach replied, looking steadfastly away from Sparks's exposed feet, as he always did, and got up to pour heavy red Martian dirt onto the dying fire.

And that was that. They could pretend the whole weird, alien cuddling and hand holding thing never happened and go on with their day.

Until they began to pack up their saddles, standing next to each other in the early morning light.

"Thank you, by the way," Sparks mumbled, adjusting Mercury's stirrups as the compulsion to thank Croach pushed words from his throat, "For, you know... making sure I didn't freeze to death an' all."

There was silence for a moment, and Sparks risked a glance to the side at Croach, who was observing him quietly.

"You are welcome, Sparks Nevada," the Martian finally answered, "I owe you a small onus for your gratitude."

"Don't worry about it," Sparks brushed it off with a wave of his hand, then mounted easily into Mercury's saddle, "Let's ride. Hiyah!"


End file.
